Page 138 of Rook of Ruin
“Why Stallion?” I smile back.
He flushes crimson, almost the color of his blood-splattered body, his brown eyebrows shooting up to his forehead. “Ma’am, I, uh . . . I’m quite well endowed.”
“Ah.” We both look away, and I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing in a tent full of injured and dying people. “Stallion, if you would consider it, I will have you as one of mine. You will take a new oath and be part of my personal guard.”
Stallion looks at me with sheer determination. He lets go of my hand. “I will take the oath now.”
“No, you will take it before my banner in Brynmawr. Rest, heal, and I will send for you.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Stallion pulls his hand down his face. “I can’t believe it I’m going to be part of your guard.”
“Believe it,” I reply as Isle’s eyes catch mine. I walk over to another warrior, the Grey Sister taking her last memories, tears falling down the warrior’s cheeks. The stones turn to a muddy brown color as the Grey Sister places each one into a small velvet box. Isle holds the warrior’s hands as she takes her last breath.
Isle gently folds the warrior’s arms and brings the blood-stained sheet over her head, “Aeternus fidelis, sister in arms.” We move our fists to our hearts. The Grey Sisters will paint her body with dark blue-black runes later. Isle swallows. “This could have been so much worse.” My eyes glance at the four Grey Sisters running throughout, gathering memories from warriors who lack silver and civilians taking their last breath. She sighs. “I need a moment. I’ll check on the progress of shoring up the hole in the wall.”
We walk out into the sunlight, and Isle climbs onto her stallion while I seek out Bow, Yarn, and Crusher, who are collecting medical supplies in the middle of the town square.
“We need more healers, more everything,” Crusher growls, his giant body easily showing his anger.
“Yarn, go to the docks. See if any of the ships have anything we can use.” Searching for a pair of scissors, I sigh, frustrated when I have to use a clean black dagger to strip sheets.
“Ma’am, I already did that. There are no ships. They left right after the first explosion.” She begins to rip a sheet with her long fingers.
“Fuck.” Crusher drops his box and runs over to a woman crying with a small bundle in her arms. They rush over to the tent, disappearing within.
“How the fuck did we miss them?” I ask angrily.
Bow points, and I see more injured people filtering into the square, and I realize they are the ones who fled the town earlier.
“Didn’t we send warriors after them?”
“They have yet to return.” Yarn’s face pales.
“Ma’am.” Needle’s mare prances before me, and I watch as concern crosses her face for her wife, Yarn. Needle reminds me of Laura from the Locker, except with sharper features. “We have civilians coming back, many of them injured. The warriors we sent after them sacrificed themselves so they could survive.”
My heart drops. “What about the messengers? Do we know if any of them made it through?” Moving my hand to block the late afternoon sun beating down onto my face, the answer I need isn’t the one given.
She shakes her head, looking just as upset as I feel. “I don’t know.” Needle’s sharp nose twitches, as if she is smelling something foul. “Also, Lord Cobal fled on one of the ships, taking—”
“Is his home still standing?”
“Yes, ma’am. A large one near the docks.”
A cruel smile wraps around my mouth. “It’s fucking mine now. Take Bow and open it up. We will bring the wounded who can be moved and house them there. If there is any staff left, put themto work—I’m sure he is well stocked. I want his kitchens roaring to life. We need boiling water, clean sheets, and food, lots of it.”
Needle’s wide mouth smiles. “Yes, ma’am.”
Running back into the tent, I smack into Crusher. He reaches out, pulling me up before I fall, a soft smile on his face. “The babe is going to make it.”
Relief fills me. “Good. Ask the healers who we can transport. Let’s get them into comfortable accommodations. There are more coming in.”
Slowly, we begin moving the wounded to my new house, and I grin when I see the banner—my banner—which Bow put it up to replace Lord Cobal’s. A grumpy-looking man in a suit is cleaning up red blood in the grand marble entrance, but he pauses when he sees warriors paying their respects to me.
He frowns. “I suppose you are the one in charge? Lord Cobal—”
“I am Princess Caddel, and yes, I am in charge.”
He quickly bows, a frown still on his face. “I did not mean to disrespect you, Your Highness. I am Gribble, Lord Cobal’s butler. They are dripping blood all over the floors, and—”
